


Falling in Love in a Candy Shop

by LackingBinary



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Candy Shop AU, Fluff, M/M, but nothing happens that really merits a warning, canon is probably a bit fucky but its... a candy shop/cafe au, dumb boys bein dumb, slight drinking later on, what do u want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 22:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9404864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LackingBinary/pseuds/LackingBinary
Summary: In the wake of the (re)discovery of Velocitron, Breakdown opens a candy shop.Knock Out is smitten.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [birbteef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birbteef/gifts).



Knock Out still hadn’t quite adjusted to the pace of life on Cybertron. All the people here were too _slow_ , and it left him with a persistent itch beneath his plating. Even the Council was tiresome, with its endless deliberations: just as soon as it looked like something was going to finally get _done_ , someone would come up with an argument that delayed proceedings again, sometimes for days. It was enough to drive a mech mad!

The Council was out for the day, since Starscream had hurried off to do… whatever it was that the “Chosen One” did when he wasn’t lording it over his “allies”. The other council members, used to such disruptions, had ambled sedately back to their assigned housing, but Knock Out was restless, full of pent-up energy. 

He had been driving through the streets of Cybertron for what felt like hours now; certainly long enough that he’d left behind the governmental district that held the council chambers. His surroundings had ceased being familiar a while ago, but he wasn’t terribly worried; it wasn’t as if he was in any danger here. He could outpace anyone in this rusting, ramshackle city if they got it into their head to make trouble. 

Soon it began to grow dark, and it dawned on him that he had gotten himself turned around enough that he was going to have to ask someone for directions. He screeched to a halt, sending up a spray of dirt and rocks that had passing mechs shooting him irritated looks. Paying them no mind, he transformed back to root mode and brushed at the dust coating his plating with distaste, longing for the well-maintained thoroughfares of Velocitron. 

Looking up, he found that he had stopped outside a quaint-looking establishment, one of the many that had sprung up as returning Cybertronians and Colonists tried to eke out a life for themselves among the shambles of their former home. The sign, rather faded but still legible enough, simply read ‘Cafe’. 

Knock Out pushed open the door, finding himself in a small but warmly-lit room. The cafe wasn’t large, but it was well-maintained. There were a few patrons sitting at the cozy booths that lined the walls. One mech glanced up at him as he entered, but the look was a fleeting one, intended simply to ensure that Knock Out wasn’t a threat. Seemingly satisfied, the mech went back to the subdued conversation he had been having before the interruption. 

The brevity was… almost offensive, actually. It wasn’t that he was trying to attract the attention of slum-dwellers, but surely the quality of his finish deserved more than a once-over? Marred with dirt though he might be, he was still leagues better-kept than the average cybertronian. Some of them, he fancied, had probably never even _seen_ a proper wax. 

The faint click of a vocalizer resetting drew his attention to the back of the cafe, where a mech whom Knock Out took to be the shopkeeper stood behind an array of glass cases. The cases were filled with candies of assorted colors, but it was the mech that drew Knock Out’s gaze. 

He was large, much larger than Knock Out, with yellow optics and blue plating and a smile that pierced right to Knock Out’s spark. It wasn’t until the mech inclined his helm that he realized he’d been staring for longer than was entirely proper.

“Can I help you?” The mech asked, still smiling in that distracting way. To Knock Out’s surprise, the words bore a Velocitronian accent. _This_ frame was from his own planet? It was entirely the opposite of a racing frame-- the mech couldn’t have been anything more than an outcast on their shared home. 

That probably explained why he had set up shop in a Cybertronian slum selling candies, come to think of it. He would’ve been eager to escape Velocitron, but the funds to do so couldn’t have been easy to come by. 

Knock Out was… intrigued. That had to be it. That was why, instead of simply asking for directions as he intended, he found himself walking towards the counter. His optics slid, disinterested, across the brightly colored display before snapping back up the the shopkeep’s face. 

He put on his most winning smile, the one that had often been described as ‘dazzling’, and said: “Well, I was in the neighborhood and I couldn’t help but notice the lovely little shop you’ve got here. I’m afraid, however, that I’ve no experience with any of this,” here he gestured at the cases, “so I’d be delighted if you could recommend me something.”

The large mech quirked an optic, amusement tingeing his field. “You, in this neighborhood? Am I supposed to believe that one of Velocitron’s foremost surgeons just _happened_ to be walking about in a slum, Knock Out?”

Knock Out should have been affronted that the mech was more or less accusing him of lying--which was rude, even if he was, in fact, lying-- but instead he found himself almost _giddy_ at the prospect that the mech knew who he was. 

Composing himself, he spread his hands in an exaggerated shrug. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me. I’ve gotten myself a bit turned around, and I’m not entirely sure how to get back to the government sector.”

The mech laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that resonated in Knock Out’s struts. “Really, mech, is that all? You shoulda just asked in the first place.”

“I’d been hoping to avoid the embarrassment of admitting I was lost. I didn’t imagine you would recognize me.”

The mech chuckled again, as if the idea of anyone _not_ recognizing Knock Out was absurd-- an idea that stroked his ego, he had to admit. Then the mech was giving him a convoluted set of instructions that did his best to keep track of. 

He must have looked rather confused, though, because after the mech had finished reciting directions he listed his personal comm frequency as well, “in case you get yourself lost again.” That last, Knock Out could have sworn, was delivered with a jaunty wink. 

Turning to go, Knock Out hesitated. Over his shoulder, pointedly not looking back at the mech, he said, “It hardly seems fair that you know my name, but you haven’t given me yours.”

“It’s Breakdown,” the mech said, and Knock Out could have sworn he could _hear_ the smile in his tone. Though that was, of course, ridiculous.

“Lovely to meet you, Breakdown,” he said, half-turning to sketch a shallow bow before hurrying from the shop. 

Out in the dusty Cybertronian night, Knock Out paused for a moment to get his bearings. What had _happened_ to him? He was supposed to be the mech who dazzled people, not the one _being_ dazzled! And certainly not by such a boxy, un-streamlined frame, or a _shopkeep_!

He shook his helm, bewildered. It was this planet, he decided, and its inane way of running things, that had him all turned about. The sooner he could get back to Velocitron, the better. 

In the meantime, he certainly wouldn’t waste any more of his precious processing power thinking about a mech he’d met _once_.

As he transformed into his alt-mode and raced away, though, his traitorous mind filled with flashes of yellow optics set in an orange face. He pushed himself faster, trying to leave the images behind.


	2. Chapter Two

It took less than a week for Knock Out to become lost once more in the sprawling chaos of Cybertron’s capital. There were no handy shops this time around; everywhere he looked, he was met with the glint of hostile optics. Red optics, mostly; hadn’t someone warned him about those? 

Despite his self-made promises, Knock Out found his thoughts turning towards Breakdown. What he wouldn’t do for a helpful shopkeep right about now! 

He pulled up Breakdown’s comm frequency, watching it blink for a moment on his HUD. This was a bad idea, he knew. But who else was there for him to call-- _Starscream_? He’d gladly waste away out here before he admitted to the scheming jet that he needed help; he had no desire to become entangled in that web.

So, with a twinge, he gave in and commed the only mech who could probably help him. There was a beat or two of silence, long enough for Knock Out to begin regretting his decision, and then the faint _ping_ of an incoming message. 

_> Knock Out? Are you alright?_

Bless his spark, the mech was _worried_. Warmth curled in his tanks at the thought. 

_> Oh, certainly. There’s just the_ small _matter of my having gotten myself… lost. Again._

_> Y’know, for such an illustrious mech you sure do get yourself lost a lot._

_> Hey, it isn’t my fault! Nothing around here makes any _sense. _And there isn’t anywhere good to drive! Don’t you miss Velocitron?_

_> There was nothing there for me, Knock Out. You must’ve realized that. _

_> I-- Well--_

_> Don’t. Pity doesn’t suit you._

A moment passed, neither of them saying anything, and then:

_> Just… stay where you are. I’ll come get you. _

_> Hey, you don’t have to do that! Directions would be fine; I’m not_ that _useless!_

There was no reply, and so Knock Out resigned himself to waiting. He contemplated leaving, just to spite the mech, but in all likelihood all he’d do was get himself more lost and annoy the mech that he’d asked for help. Then he’d be stuck here for even longer, and those optics he kept catching glimpses of in his periphery were beginning to look hungry. 

After an interval that seemed to last much longer than it really did, a shadow detached itself from the surrounding darkness and resolved itself into Breakdown’s familiar shape. The tension drained from Knock Out’s frame, and he felt his lips stretching in a smile that was more sincere than the one he usually employed. 

“Breakdown! I can’t tell you how lovely it is to see you. I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble?”

The mech looked at him for a moment, his expression and field unreadable. Then he held out a box, which Knock Out reached up to take from him. Under Breakdown’s unchanging gaze, he opened the box to find an assortment of candies and a thermos which, he imagined, probably held the sort of warmed energon one typically found in cafes. 

He looked back up at Breakdown, his brow furrowing. “What’s all this?”

“Well, since I had to close the shop to come rescue your directionless aft, I figured it’d be a shame to let the stuff I hadn’t sold go to waste.” 

For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to Knock Out that he’d be interrupting Breakdown’s work. In retrospect it seemed obvious, and he felt a twinge of guilt. Not a lot of guilt, really, but enough to cause him to pluck a piece of candy from the box and slide it onto his glossa in lieu of responding to the subtle rebuke. 

Knock Out didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. The candy wasn’t cloying sweet, as his prior experiences had led him to anticipate. Instead, it dissolved almost instantly in his mouth, leaving only a lingering sweetness.

He cycled his optics, and his expression must have been startled because he heard Breakdown chuckle. He whipped his head around, ready for the contempt he expected to find, but Breakdown’s face was soft, his smile gentle. 

He felt unsteady, as though the ground had suddenly refused to support his weight. The box he clutched seemed a lifeline, the only thing keeping him afloat. 

“It’s… good,” he said, terribly aware of how insufficient his words were, for both the kindness offered and the candies themselves. 

“I would hope so,” Breakdown said, still smiling. “Let’s get going, shall we? I don’t think you want to stay here any longer.”

With that, he held out an arm. Wordlessly, Knock Out curled his fingers carefully around the proffered limb, looping their arms together. This close, Breakdown’s field swirled around him. It was not chaotic but insistent, constant, like the pull of a tide. He felt suffused in warmth. 

They made their way back to the government sector like that, the low rumble of Breakdown’s voice occasionally breaking the silence whenever he found something worth commenting on. Knock Out listened intently, paying little attention to his surroundings and consequently learning nothing of the route taken. 

All too soon, in Knock Out’s opinion, they reached the government sector. Breakdown carefully extracted his arm, leaving Knock Out standing in the street, clutching his box of candies. With a wave, Breakdown turned to go. 

“Wait,” Knock Out called, his face flushing slightly when the other mech turned a questioning optic on him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come with me to my abode? Perhaps we could share a drink.” It struck him that this might be taken as a proposition. It struck him that he might _want_ it to be taken as a proposition. 

But Breakdown waved him off, making some excuse about it being late. It was indeed rather late, but that had never stopped _Knock Out_ , and he didn’t see why it should stop anyone else either. 

Nevertheless, the two mechs parted ways. Knock Out briefly considered getting himself lost again the next day, so that he’d have an excuse to call Breakdown, but decided that it’d make him seen too desperate. Twice was a coincidence, after all; three times was intentional. 

So he went back to his temporary housing alone, shooting a distasteful glare at the flickering lights. Really, did everything in this city have to be _quite_ so run-down? He set the box on the counter, looking at it for a moment. He popped another candy in his mouth, deciding he’d deal with the rest in the morning, and headed to his berth.

It didn’t occur to him until later, as he was lying awake, that he and Breakdown needn’t have walked at all; that they could have simply driven back and foregone all of that arm-holding business. 

The realization kept him awake longer than he’d like to admit.


	3. Chapter Three

In the morning, the candies were still there. If not for that, Knock Out almost would have thought that he’d dreamt everything. 

His HUD pinged, a helpful reminder of the “emergency” alert that had woken him, some urgent summons to convene the council. More likely than not it’d turn out to be another false alarm, but that didn’t mean that he could ignore it. 

He headed towards the door then, on second thought, backtracked and grabbed the thermos from the box. Taking a sip as he stepped outside, he was unsurprised to find that it was sweet. Even though any heat it might have once held had long-since escaped, the energon still felt warm where it settled in his tanks. 

Stuffing the thermos in his subspace, Knock Out transformed and headed to the Council with a heavy spark. 

\---

The meeting was as much of a farce as he (and, probably, everyone else) had anticipated, but they were all still obligated to sit through it. Even Knock Out could tell that Starscream was cracking under the pressure that he was under, that he had put _himself_ under by refusing to let anyone actually _help_ him. 

Supposedly there had been some sort of security breach, but as Starscream couldn’t procure any evidence, and nobody else could corroborate his claims, there was nothing to do but watch the conversation spin in increasingly frenetic circles. 

Knock Out watched in bemused silence, occasionally taking a sip of energon. It was really quite good, but he found himself wishing that he had some of Breakdown’s candies to accompany it. Then, of course, his thoughts turned to the mech himself, and any attention he might have been paying to the meeting was abruptly abandoned. 

It struck him that he really should repay Breakdown in some way, perhaps with some sort of gift, lest he seem unappreciative. But then again, he had no idea what Breakdown actually _liked_ , except maybe candy, but he surely had enough of that. 

In the meantime, while he figured out an appropriate gift, he could at least buy another mug of energon.

\---

When he entered Breakdown’s shop, accompanied by the tinkling of the door’s bell, Breakdown quirked an optic at him. 

“Figured out how to get around, have you?”

“I _told_ you that wasn’t normal. It’s not my fault you didn’t believe me.” He approached the counter, leaning against it in a pointedly casual sort of way. Tapping a pointed finger against the case, he continued, “You know, you never did recommend me something last time.”

“Yes, because you weren’t really asking. You were just _lost_.” 

“Well, I assure you that I’m no longer lost, and I really do want to know.”

Breakdown’s field was tinged with amusement as he leaned forward, close enough that Knock Out’s spark skipped a beat. When Breakdown turned away to reach under the counter, he reset his vocalizer with a quiet _click_.

Breakdown started listing types of energon, and the kinds of candies that went well with them, but Knock Out would have been lying if he claimed that he’d heard any of it. In the end, he selected something at random. He had the sneaking suspicion that Breakdown knew it, too, but at least he was courteous enough not to make a comment. 

Later, holding a bag of candies for which he had paid more shanix than he could really spare, he wondered exactly what he thought he was doing. 

\---

But, of course, he wouldn’t be Knock Out if he learned from his mistakes. And so the next day found him back at Breakdown’s shop. As did the following day, and the one after that. 

The mech didn’t even have the decency to look surprised anymore; he merely raised a hand to acknowledge Knock Out as the red mech slotted himself into one of the corner booths. After a while, Breakdown would come over with a mug of warmed energon. Each day it was slightly different, and each day Breakdown would listen to Knock Out’s comments and modify the next drink according to his preferences, no matter how often Knock Out insisted that the present iteration was _just lovely, thanks._

And, sometimes, if the shop wasn’t particularly busy, Breakdown would sit down across from him and they’d just… talk. About Cybtertron’s reconstruction, about Starscream, about the shop’s other regular patrons. They didn’t talk about Velocitron, really; Knock Out had brought it up once, and Breakdown had made some transparent excuse and gotten up. He had the good sense, at least, not to mention their shared home again. 

Sometimes, though, the shop was too busy for Breakdown to indulge in the luxury of extended conversation. Those days, Knock Out would watch him flit about, smiling brightly at customers as he dispensed mugs and plates of sweets. His brow would crease when someone asked him a question that required consideration, and his face would absolutely _shine_ when someone paid him a compliment. 

Once in a while Breakdown would look over and catch his optic. He’d smile, a genuine expression nothing like the flimsy things that daily inhabited the faces of politicians, and Knock Out would smile back, helpless. 

He’d turn up whenever the Council deigned to let him leave, and often he’d stay ‘til the shop closed. And every night, when he left, he’d buy a small bag of candies. (And it certainly wasn’t desperate, the way he relished the moment when their hands brushed together for the briefest span when Breakdown handed them to him).

And then he’d return to his house, where there were _entirely_ too many candies for any single mech to own. It had gotten to the point where they were stacked on almost every available surface, because a mech could really only eat so many candies, no matter how good they were.


	4. Chapter Four

It came as no surprise, then, that one day, when Knock Out had indulged himself with more high-grade than was perhaps advisable, his first instinct was to call Breakdown. It had been an overly-long council session, and Knock Out had come out of it with a splitting processor-ache. 

He still had Breakdown’s personal comm. He hadn’t used it in weeks, though; there’d been no occasion to do so, when he saw Breakdown more or less every day at his shop. He hadn’t seen him today, though, and his fogged processor worried that Breakdown might be concerned about him. It seemed like the sort of thing the mech’d do; he was terribly soft-sparked. 

Well, he certainly couldn’t have the big mech worrying. Not after all the lovely things Breakdown had done! That decided, Knock Out sent a comm.

_> hey i just wanted to let you know i’m fine and not at all injured  
>unless you count listening to starscream as an injury, in which case i’m definitely dying_

_> O-kay?  
>Knock Out, are you drunk?_

_> noooo  
>i don’t know why you’d accuse me like this_

_> You’re definitely drunk._

_> okay yes_  
_> but i didn’t want you to worry about me_  
_> so  
_ _> here we are_

There was a pause in the conversation, and Knock Out could almost picture Breakdown sighing, his face scrunched up in that adorable way it did when a customer was being particularly obstinate. Which he resented, really; it wasn’t like he was being irrational. 

_> You know, Knock Out, you really don’t have to keep manufacturing excuses to talk to me._

_> what are you talking about  
>i like talking to you, you dolt_

_> No, I mean that you can stop dancing around the issue when what you really want to do is ask if you can court me._

_> uhh_  
_> i don’t  
_ _> know what you mean_

_> Knock Out, nobody likes candy that much._

_> no, i do  
>i definitely do_

_> You do realize that I’ve noticed that you never eat any of it, right?_

Knock Out’s inebriated processor was struggling valiantly to keep up with everything that was happening, but he had the sinking feeling that it wasn’t doing a very good job of things. And, really, what was the point in being coy? The only mechs who would care were other Velocitronians, and with the way the Council was going, he wouldn’t be seeing Velocitron again for ages. 

Anyway, Breakdown was the loveliest, kindest mech he’d chanced upon in years, and anyone who disagreed could get fragged.

_> okay, yes_  
_> i like you  
_ _> even if it was terribly rude of you to pry like that_

_> You commed me, not the other way around._  
_> I like you too, though.  
_ _> See you tomorrow?_

_> yeah  
>i’d like that_

Knock Out waited a moment, but there were no more messages. It was probably for the best; he didn’t know that his spark could take much more sincerity. Gaze unfocused, he grabbed a candy at random from the counter and popped it into his mouth.

It tasted just as sweet as the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aand that's a wrap!
> 
> i've... never actually written ko or bd before so i hope i did... an alright job of it haha ;;?


End file.
